La Ronde Lunaire
by Eirenei
Summary: Grand Prix Finale. Yuuri should've been happy to come so far, but one careless sentence from the lips of his mentor turns everything on its head.
1. Chapter 1

_**LA RONDE LUNAIRE**_

* * *

 _ **Synopsis:**_ Grand Prix Finale. Yuuri should've been happy to come so far, but one careless sentence from the lips of his mentor turns everything on its head.

 _ **Shout Out:**_ Well. Instead of my should-have research on _**King of Fighters**_ and whatnot, I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into writing out this little snippet. But hell if I am writing skating choreo once again. Once was enough, thank you very much. You can blame the aforementioned King of Fighters crossover that kicked me into watching this particular anime series. And yeah, from then on, it snowballed down courtesy of _ **Origa**_ and her song _**La Ronde Lunaire**_. Because of Russian laws concerning LGBT I took a little different approach to the dilemma, thus this little story turnout.

 _ **Translation:**_

 _vilenya - fairy_

 _bozhe mili – dear god_

 _nebesa - heavens_

* * *

 _ ******_ _ **Yuuri's POV****_

I never thought I would've fallen in love with him.

I adored him, sure, but it was a puppy love towards the idol and later on master, so to speak. And then, when he came to me, because he saw something in me, something that inclined him to take me as his pupil, I was both terrified, disbelieving and tentatively hopeful. Because who wouldn't have wanted to have the world-famous five times ice-skating champion and their long-time idol as their coach?

I had lucked out, when I had been on the verge of letting everything go, because of my failure at the Grand Prix. I had thought to ice-skate only once more - for Yuuko, to give her my thanks, before finally throwing the ice skates into the corner - competition-wise - and then move on with my pathetic life. However, it wasn't meant to be, courtesy of three little devils under the guise of her children filming my poor copy of his routine and posting it up on the internet without permission.

Which gave me almost a heart-attack - who am I kidding, I definitely felt my heart stop in my chest for a moment, and then, I really got a heart attack when my mother announced to me that the dog I had mistaken for a Vicchan was in fact owned by a handsome stranger that just came into our _onsen._ It could've been anyone, but it wasn't a coincidence – it couldn't have been, what with Makkachin here - and where was Makachin, then his owner wasn't far away either... and I knew Makkachin's owner very well... at least from afar.

When I have envisioned him as a kind and gentle person, he was anything but. Air-headed – he even forgot that he promised his protégé that he would train him – thick-headed, oblivious, and so, so rude. He had made me feel mortified almost every step we took - from his questions about my personal affairs to his offers about being my—whatever I wanted him to be, to his thoughtless agreement to the triplets' crazy idea of competing with my Russian namesake and his brazen choice of assigning us different themes.

I still remember this little choreography. It's engraved into my very bones, what with the amount of times I've skated it, no matter the others I've eventually mastered and performed on the ice. But this one – my heart had tied itself in painful, throbbing knots of anxiety when I had seen it performed by him for the first time. Say about his personal faults whatever you want, I could and would probably agree with you, but as a skater, Viktor Nikiforov is undoubtedly a cut above the rest, a blazing sun on the midnight sky, eclipsing the darkness with his light so much that you are left blind to any other stars trying to outshine him.

I wanted to believe that he was truly interested in me, despite my best efforts on the contrary. I know, only too well, that I am a mediocre skater at best, and what's worse, almost at the end of the skating career. Falls and harsh landings on the ice are inevitable tribute of any ice skater worth their salt if they want to succeed, and more often than not, after finishing the training, I felt more like broken _matryoshka_ , never to be put together again, than a bruise-filled human being. Despite it's deceptive smoothness, ice is an unforgivable to the mistakes made on it's surface, causing us to pay the tributes to it day in and day out in the pursuit of our dreams. And with my 23 years of age, I was already pushing the limits. I was selfish to want one last miracle, to reach for the shiny stage of Grand Prix once more... and I was punished by my selfishness.

 _'Eh? He's just a whim of mine.'_

Those careless words still echo in my mind. I didn't meant to listen to his talk with Yakov, I really didn't, but I heard my name being mentioned, and fool as I had been, I couldn't help but come closer to find out what they had been talking about. But as the old adage goes, eavesdroppers don't ever hear anything good about themselves, I got my due.

And It hurt. It hurt that despite everything, I was still just a whim to him. It hurt as I had been finally ready to confess to him - wholly and truly - my feelings - and they would probably be humored like ones of a little puppy's because I was just a whim to him, a toy to amuse him while he gathered his inspiration out of my pitiful efforts.

All those long months, the kind glances the encouragement... they were all fake, weren't they? Because of course, my life is that kind of cluster fuck.

I was fool to gamble my happiness on his feelings. I was a fool to go so far so blindly, because he said he could. I was - _am_ \- thrice the fool because despite of all that, I am still in love with him, damn that whimsical nature of his.

But no matter. It's time to skate now and strangely, I feel calm.

It's the last time - truly the last one. One last surprise for him and the audience…

He called for me, but I disregarded him, skating out on the ice, feeling cold and hollow and somehow at peace.

* * *

 _ ****Viktor's POV****_

"Yuuri?" I called after him, confused. "Yuuri!" But it was as if Yuuri wasn't listening to me, already in his own world.

This wasn't like him. Usually, Yuuri never disregarded me like this, I made sure for him not to, but the last week he had become quieter and more distant- Something was bothering him, and as much as I tried to talk it out of him, he clamped down like particularly stubborn oyster. At first I had thought it was the nerves, but he skated as good as usual if not better.

As a coach, I should've been happy. Happy because this unpolished diamond was finally coming into his own, to shine with the colors that had been dimmed under the dirt and crust of the nervousness, countless defeats and self-deprecation. It was a testament to my skills to make someone like Yuuri to come so far. Instead of that, I felt only unease and concern rolling in my gut, along with a good dose of helplessness. If that was what Yakov felt every time I was out on the ice in competition, I can't help but respect the old bear for being patient with my antics.

Yuuri looked resplendent in his costume of black trousers with dark blue loose sheer shirt entwined with silver and a tiny smatter of golden glitter on his shoulder, showing off his throat hold and a small bit of his chest. It wasn't what I would've chosen for him for this piece, but Yuri had uncharacteristically insisted on getting this one. He had finally convinced me saying that it would surprise the crowd, though looking back to this scene, I can't help but feel duped for some reason. He didn't bother with his hair, let it fall around his head in a messy disarray, causing me to frown and my fingers to itch for a comb. Even if it was unusual, I had to reluctantly admit it suited him.

 _ **[And the last competitor is Katsuki Yuri from Japan, with the - ]**_

The announcer was cut off, along with the most of the light in arena, leaving only one to shine where Yuuri was standing.

The crowds shifted, startled by the loss of the light. I frowned. This was unusual.

"What's going on?" Yurio growled from my right side.

I blinked. "A fallout, most likely. " That wasn't good. If Yuuri lost the concentration here -

There was buzzing and crackling, before the radio finally came online again. _**[Ahem. We are very sorry for the interruption, it seems that we had a minor fallout in the system. We apologize for the inconvenience, but most of the lights are out. Still, it's Katsuki's turn - ]**_

My blood chilled. It couldn't be. They intended to throw him into a hot water. Usually, when something that happened, the competition was halted for the duration of the repairs, but it seemed that this time, they wanted to keep going despite the handicap. This was _not_ happening –

 _ **[ - with La Ronde Lunaire by Origa]**_

No. This was not supposed to happen. It has to be a mistake. It has to be. I turned around to march into the music booth to have some strong word with the DJ's stationed here, because surely, this had to be some kind of a horrible mixup –

-But the first strands of the music already escaped from the speakers into the air that suddenly seemed unforgivingly thin and colder than ever.

The notes unfurled, slow and mellow and for some reason, carried out a foreboding feeling.

 _Ot ulybki odin shag do toski_

Yuuri's silohuette on the ice was motionless for a moment, turned with his back to me, his spine both supple and made out of steel, as if he was standing under the waterfall of moonlight, the stardust glittering on his shoulders.

But still, this one verse….

 _It's only one step from a smile to anguish._

Something was wrong. Wrong to the extent Yuuri had thought to switch the programs from the routine he had been working for three months to an unknown one and _bozhe mili,_ it was a disaster in the making –

 _Leleyala luna lunnyi svet_  
 _Svoih svechei hranya teplo_  
 _V vodovorote vod malen'kii ruchei_  
 _By lot luny tak daleko_

The beginning was slow, gentle, like Agape, only Yuuri did a slow spin, hugging himself, as if in a mocking rendition of his conclusion to Eros. And then, he _flew._

This Yuuri - I've never knew him.

I've saw small particles of him - in that unintended video when he mimicked my choreography, and then, a little bit more in Eros, but this was like vilenya dancing on the frozen lake, blessed with starlight. The steps flowed from one to another, reminding me of a brook under the ice, slow and gentle, fluid despite of its frozen surroundings.

But it was his face that just about killed my heart.

Despite his skill on the ice, it was his face that expressed the most, so terribly human and lonely and pained and resigned - I've never saw Yuuri like that, not even when he was at his lowest, when he was about to give up, give _in_ \- but he always came back, back to me and said that he would try one more time-

Only this time, there was a definite feeling of this last time, of giving up, in the tips of fingers, and the bow of his back when he executed the camel, launching himself into a lazy spin.

 _Ah, eto vechnaya drama  
Drug ot druga oni, kak i my, daleki  
Ah, eto vechnaya drama  
Ot ulybki odin shag do toski  
Odin shag do toski  
Odin shag do toski..._

Yuuri's body wasn't following the rhythm - it _was_ the rhythm, seemingly dragging out the notes out of the speakers, and weaving magic around the skating rink and to think… that he wasn't even a quarter in his program….

My hand clutched on my chest, and even if I could look back from him, I couldn't. Half of my brain was screaming at him that he was absolutely irresponsible to change the choreography on a whim in the last second and not notify me of changes and when did he find time to make this one? I was sure we were together like two peas in a pod, constantly, but looking back, Yuuri began behaving strangely some time back, maybe – no, it was definitely then when –

 _Ot ulybki odin shag do toski  
Ot ulybki odin shag do toski..._

He executed the perfect quadruple salchow with a triple toe loop right after and I just about choked on it. Belatedly, I heard Yurio curse beside me vehemently, and I couldn't help but agree with him.

Katsuki Yuuri was a _monster._

And to make things worse, he had been a monster way before I deigned to take his reins, interested in polishing him to a shine. If he had been like this before, at his first Championship, I didn't doubt that he would dethrone me in an instant.

He may not have had talent like Yurio or one of his international friends like Phichit, but lacking it didn't stop him in trying to reach their level.

And yet, it hurt to look at him like that.

Why did it hurt like so?

I should have been happy for him, proud that I helped him to overcome his insecurities and surpass his weaker self –

Because he was shining out there, weaving his spell over anyone who bothered to watch him.

 _Laskali liliyu vody pruda  
Obeschaya pokoi na spokoinom dne  
No lyubov'svoyu otdala ruch'yu  
I sebya obrekla na stradaniya i smert'_

I jerked at the words of the song.

Guilty. Guilty because I've dragged Yuuri out of his little corner, promising him so many things, but maybe, in the retrospective, it wasn't the best thing to do.

' _For whom? You or Yuuri?_ ' My mind mocked me, causing me to frown as I tried to find any fails in Yuuri's skating. He was rough - both rough and smooth, and _nebesa_ , what wouldn't I have given to have only quarter of his expressions on the ice –

I've promised him so many things, teasing him and beckoning him with the promises of being close to me, closer than any human being had ever been, a sun beckoning the flower to unfurl their bud for its pleasure…..

' _I could be your father. Your friend. Or your lover.'_

' _No! No, no, I just want you to be Viktor!'_

And then, my talk with Yakov.

I can't help but think that my old coach was kind of disappointed with me for my reply to him, even as flamboyant as it was. Strange, but true, even if what I thought of Yuuri was an exact opposite.

 _Ah, eto vechnaya drama  
Drug ot druga oni, kak i my, daleki  
Ah, eto vechnaya drama  
Ot ulybki odin shag do toski  
_

Why then, did he skate like he didn't know this, like he had his heart broken….

And then, my spine felt as if it was dropped into a liquid nitrogen and broken into million little shards embedding themselves into m while body as a result.

 _He heard us._ It was the only possible reason for this - for his distance from me, for the change of the choreography for everathing since that disastrous evening when I spoke out this lie of mine.

He heard me talking to Yakov.

' _Eh? He's just a whim of mine.'_

I've never regretted any words more than those.

One step from a smile to anguish, indeed.

 _Odin shag do toski  
Odin shag do toski..._

I would've rather had clumsy, trustful, and most importantly, _happy_ Yuuri than one who was right now skating on the ice, so perfectly, but with such a heartbroken, yet resigned expression like he was doing right now.

 _Ot ulybki odin shag do toski  
Ot ulybki odin shag do toski... _

The rhythm was like a heartbeat, fragile yet merciless as he entered the last steps of his choreography, dark hair glinting with swat under the lone light, chin up as if looking longingly at the light/moon, and I wanted it to _stop._

 _Ot ulybki odin shag do toski  
Ot ulybki odin shag do toski..._

Because this was wrong. This wasn't Yuuri. I didn't mean to break him.

I only wanted to protect him.  
What a funny thought.

Viktor Nikiforov, five times Grand Prix Champion, trying to protect someone from his dubious reputation.

My eyesight blurred, blending the lines of blue and silver and pale white of ice with the black of his costume and hair.

But if nothing else, I deserved it. Whatever may come out of this, I deserved it.

My eyes stayed wide open, even if my sight was less than perfect with the tears lining them, watching both my greatest victory and failure dancing on the ice.

 _I'm sorry, Yuuri_.

"Viktor?" Yurio's voice floated to me, bewildered, but I didn't look at him, even when he tugged my sleeve.

' _I'm sorry.'_

 _Ot ulybki odin shag do toski  
Ot ulybki odin shag do toski  
Odin shag do toski..._

The last notes tinkled out in the frozen air, and the hall exploded with cheers.


	2. Chapter 2

**_DON'T LET THE SUN GO DOWN ON ME_**

* * *

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _Yuri! On Ice_ or _Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me_ (by Elton John and George Michael). The feels just got to me.

 _ **Shout Out:** _ Seems that pet project of mine demanded all my attention today, simply because I didn't want to finish it on a tragic note. But I couldn't help myself in not adding an extra Victor whump while I was at it, mainly because there are so many fics with Yuuri's POV that I wanted to amend that particular little inequality. Also, a certain punk demanded to be present, so excuse his language. _ **Floatingfeathersfromthesky**_ , you got your wish! _**R.A Cross**_ , it's here! _**JohannaGracia,**_ thank you for your review, and I hope you enjoy this one, with all the feels included _**Izaren**_ , hope this will cheer you up a little. _**AyumiUK**_ \- thanks for notifying me about the typos, I was half-asleep when I was writing this. Done and done! _**Anonymouse**_ – er, thank you, you made me flustered. Hope you enjoy this one! _**Aisuto** , don't cry, please - if you are, then tears of joy would be preferable. Thank you for your review, you made my day._

 ** _Warnings:_ AU-verse, SLASH, Viktor-whump** (for a change), **intervention** aka certain Russian punk and his **language.**

 _ **Language:**_

 _angel moy - angel of mine_ (technically correct would be _my angel_ , but grammatically, it's this version)

 _navsegda - forever_

* * *

 _I can't light no more of your darkness  
All my pictures seem to fade to black and white_

The announcements and subsequent celebrations passed by like a dream. You know it was real, but still it felt some kind of an ethereal quality you could associate only with dreams. For me, it was as if everything - every nuance of color faded into gray, black and white. Yuuri's performance broke me in a way I doubt I could recover myself from... and it was all my fault.

We both laughed and hugged - at least I did, Yuuri only offered a feeble smile to the cameras and press, even when he had been announced the champion - no small feat for an ice skater who was said to be in the sundown of his skating prowess only five months ago.

I wanted to hold him more, but he excused himself, claiming he was tired, and I was powerless to do anything to let him go, even if everything within me screamed that if I let him go now, then I wouldn't get him back again.

When did he manage to become so important to me?

 _I'm growing tired and time stands still before me  
Frozen here on the ladder of my life_

I am now in my flat in St. Petersburg, curled on my couch with Makkachin being the reassuring, warm weight on my stomach, like he had been when I first saw Yuuri skating to my routine _Stay Close To Me._

Even if the life went on - logically, I knew that for a fact, I felt frozen, unable to move into any direction. The clock dragged me forward, from one day to another, and there was also a number of bottles of vodka commemorating my misery on the floor.

All those achievements, and I've bungled up the most important one – no. I've bungled up the most important relationship in my life because I was afraid. All of my fame, flamboyant gestures, everything, and Yuuri saw through it like I was a transparent glass to him, straight into my innermost being.

To the Viktor that hid underneath all the gloss and smiles and exaggerated gestures under the mask of ice-skating genius, the scared, lonely little boy afraid to reach out because the kind of love he wanted was forbidden and even punished by the world.

When I was little, the church had rained fire and brimstone on the ones who loved the people of the same sex. They were destined to go to hell for eternity, no exceptions, just because they weren't - _couldn't_ be in love the normal way.

I tried to be normal - _Bog,_ I tried, even going so far as to date girls when I was still a teen, but it felt wrong. Wrong to deceive someone just because it would be more convenient to me. So I built myself a flirty, casanova-like persona I then showed and used against the public. Ice prince, off and on the ice, a little bit air-headed and funny to offset any strange rumors of my relationships, both real and imaginary.

And it all worked out perfectly. I became media darling, and in a sense, untouchable. But still, I lacked something. Creativity. Inspiration. All I knew was that it made a hollow in my chest when I was looking at my comrades pairing off, whether on the ice or off it, making their lives richer for that special person they've chosen to let in their lives. In the middle of them, I stood there, happy, smiling, but frozen on the inside, the whimsical genius who didn't have time for relationships because he was too busy with planning the next surprise for his adoring public.

I had everything - almost. Even when I was at the end of my career - I've achieved everything I could in singles ice skating, and I was bored. Uninspired.

Until that late afternoon when I whimsically pressed a button to play yet another rendition of my latest routine, expecting it to amuse me with its fails like so many others did. Call me a masochist, if you want, but I had some kind of a secret obsession with watching people try - and fail - skating to my routines. I don't know why I did it. I was flattered, certainly, but I cringed and winced every time when they failed to nail the elements properly.

I expected this one to be the same as hundreds of the others.

 _[Katsuki Yuuri, skating to V. Nikiforov's 'Stay Close To Me']_ So simple of a title for the skater that was anything but simple.

I was surprised. Sure, there were some minor mistakes, but surely, that couldn't be the ball of nerves who absolutely bombed the latest Grand Prix, landing on sixth place overall, causing Yuri to unleash fire and brimstone on his person and then still have the gall to reject to pose with me for a commemorative photo when I offered him a chance.

This was... _feeling._ It made my heart beat harder with every jump done and I involuntarily blushed at the every glance of those dark eyes in my direction. Well, not mine, but still –

-It was enough for me to pull up all the available information on him and then decide – hoping against hope, really - to follow him home.

 _Too late to save myself from falling  
I took a chance and changed your way of life_

It was a whim. Because Katsuki Yuuri was an inspiration given form. A clumsy, wide-eyed, messy-haired, and a little bit overweight form, that is.

I had to suppress a chuckle at his reaction to my announcement that I decided to be his coach. So adorable, dorky as he was. It didn't help that he apparently adored me to bits, according to his mother and sister. Kind of a scaredy-cat, especially when he saw me skating to both _Agape_ and _Eros._ I could almost see him praying to be given _Agape_ , but I decided to tease – test him, and slammed him down with _Eros_.

When he announced that _Eros_ was to him a hot pot of _katsudon_ , I didn't know whether to laugh or weep at his innocence. But well, if that worked for him... besides, Yurio's face was priceless!

In a true underdog fashion, he managed to surprise me the very last minute. Not as a playboy, but a beautiful seductress. It made my heart want to follow him out on the ice and tug me into dancing with him.

And this feeling persisted. Every time when he was on ice, whether to compete or train.

The little piggy changed himself into something sleek, lean, only his eyes, dark and beautiful, remained the same, looking at me not as a champion, or an idol, like they used to int he beginning, but simply a person, Viktor.

At first, it was uncomfortable. Even I didn't know anymore who was I underneath all the layers I managed to place between me and the world. But bit by bit, those layers melted and crumbled away, leaving me defenseless to his charm. True, I changed his life, but I hadn't anticipated he would also changed mine so completely, not even knowing he was doing it so.

 _But you misread my meaning when I met you  
Closed the door and left me blinded by the light_

I offered to be his boyfriend on the beach that day. Just on a whim.

Later that night, I berated myself for my slip up and thanked heavens that he didn't take me seriously. Did that mean I wanted him to take me seriously? I don't know. I both tested and teased him, still feeling a light glaze of worship toward my person in his eyes.

Yet, he managed to surprise me again.

He closed the doors to the relationship between us, and yet, he didn't heave me in the darkness, but a blinding light of being just Viktor. No one else.

Once again, I closed my eyes, trying to recall that day on the beach, the screech of the seagulls above us and my heart turning into some kind of live lodestone, stubbornly clinging to his direction, even if I hadn't known that a the time.

That clumsy, shy, and at time still a little bit overweight young man did what so many before him had tried so very fruitlessly –

-finding the true Viktor Nikiforov.

The one who was afraid for his colleague when they confided in him that they loved differently from the norm.

The one who witnessed the same colleague's casket being placed into the unforgiving cold ground three months later because they had been killed on the account of their sexuality by some drunk idiot who thought himself above just because he loved right –

-and the one to whom he had silently dedicated that performance at the first Grand Prix, shocking the world with his half female-half-male costume the public thought as radical for someone so young, but didn't really look into it's meaning any deeper.

 _Don't let the sun go down on me  
Although I search myself, it's always someone else I see_

The cold nipped my nose and the ice-skating rink was empty and dark of the cheers and light it had been witness to a month ago.

Had it really been so long since I've last seen you, Yuuri?

Had it really been so long since you've left me here, cold and bereft of your warmth and smiles, because you thought I didn't love you?

You're mistaken, Yuuri. I loved you. No, I _love_ you, even if I realized it too late, burning all the bridges between us with my careless words I've spoken in an effort to protect you.

Even now, I see you - on the ice rink, behind my eyelids, in my dreams, even.

I lost myself the moment you've stepped on ice that day. And I don't mean the moment when you skated to that heart-wrenching song, telling me silently that I've broken your heart.

 _Only one step from smile to anguish..._

No, it was when you attempted to skate to _Stay Close To Me._

No. It was even sooner - when your refused to accept my offer of being photographed with me that disastrous Grand Prix when you placed the sixth.

I attempted to find inspiration when I reached out to you. Selfish, but true.

Instead, I've found myself, and I lost myself just as easily, when I let you go.

And now, I am here, with ice as my only companion, just like it used to be, and bittersweet memories.

Ahh. What wouldn't I have given to be rid of that accursed inspiration, just to have you back in my arms. Even if you only smiled at me..

 _I'd just allow a fragment of your life to wander free  
But losing everything is like the sun going down on me_

My eyesight blurred again. My chest hurt and my breath heaved as I was taking my body to the brink of its abilities. At that time, I didn't care if I injured myself to the point of being unable to skate ever again.

I am just an old has-been, anyway, and you - _you_ – are the shining new star rising to the sky my falling one was taking their goodbye from silently and violently, in an abandoned ice rink under the moonlight.

If I hadn't uttered those accursed words, we would've been together still. Laughing together, teasing each other, helping when one of us would fall, either on ice or in life.

I would've been here, a constant in your life, always here, always present -

 _I can't find the right romantic line  
But see me once and see the way I feel_

Any amount of _'I am sorry'_ is meaningless now. Any amount of romantic lines has lost it's meaning. Remember the ones I've used when I tried to tease you out of your shell, making you blush and stutter so beautifully?

You may have not thought I was serious. But I was. I was, because I know you would never take me up on them. Because I was safe that way. Looking back, I wish that I would've said them with more meaning - maybe then you would believe me and take my hand, not only as your coach and friend, but also as your lover. Yes, I said your lover.

Because that's what I want to be. _  
_

_Don't discard me just because you think I mean you harm  
But these cuts I have they need love to help them heal _

I launch into a Bielmann's spin, the world blurring around me, and my muscles are screaming, begging me to stop and rest.

I would beg you to take me back. On my knees... or in _dogeza._ I didn't mean to harm you with my actions or words, though I've done so with both.

I am just a human. I bleed just as easily as you do.

So please...

I beg of you.

I need you.

 _Don't let the sun go down on me  
Although I search myself, it's always someone else I see_

 **Sent to:** katsudonyuuri

 **Sent by:** Yurio

 **Subject:** Watch this. And get your ass over here!

 **Attachment:** _[Skater-vid]  
 **Yuri:**_ How did you get this?

 ** _Yurio:_ ** Caught him performing it for the n-th time. You broke him. _**Fix**_ him. Or I will send my cat army after you.

 _ **Yuri:**_ But –

 ** _Yurio:_ ** You two are both idiots. He's heads over heels in _/shudder/_ love with you. It's sickening to watch.

 _ **Yuri:**_ …

 _ **Yurio:**_ Be less of a pighead for once and move your fat ass.

 _ **[Yurio logged out]**_

 _I'd just allow a fragment of your life to wander free  
But losing everything is like the sun going down on me_

He was dizzy with exhaustion and pain. He knew he shouldn't have exerted so much effort for so long, every night, but it was both his penance and a plea, pushing and pulling his body through the crucible of his own making. Thankfully nobody has noticed his obsession yet - and he avoided the media with an overall explanation of taking some time alone to make something new. His white sweatshirt was completely wet with sweat and legs, clad in pale gray, almost white leggings trembled visibly with the exertion their owner upended upon them.

Something new. _Hah._ Right. How could he even begin to think to create the new choreo if everything that was on his mind, screamed Yuuri?

He should have gone after him, to catch him and explain that he wasn't just a passing whim to him, but something deeper and infinitely more meaningful.

He panted as he knelt on the ice, his trembling arms embracing his own torso in a parody of the hug Yuuri had done at the end of his performance of Eros, hair slicked with sweat and a few shades darker than its usual platinum color. His body throbbed both with physical and emotional pain, wracking shudders from his slender frame.

And then, he felt arms around him, and chest against his back.

His upper body stiffened with shock.

Was he already so far gone that he was hallucinating the one his heart was yearning for, his scent and his warmth?

"Ha… I am pathetic, imaging you here with me." He breathed out, gasping.

He knew he would be paying for his overindulgence slash punishment tomorrow and days and life after, but it was alright.

The hug around him tightened, and the body against his own trembled. Closing his eyes, Viktor hung his head. "It would've served me right, with what I've done to you." He breathed out softly. "But I can't let you go."

"Why not?" The apparition – so warm and soft - whispered to him, and Viktor imagined that raven hair teasing his cheek, the scent of _onsen_ and _katsudon_ and something unique to Yuuri tickling his nose.

He wanted to hold the apparition, but refrained. "Because you are precious to me. Somehow, you got me under your spell, making me fall in love with you. I wanted to protect you, so I said those thrice damned words." He whispered, relishing the arms clenching around him obligingly.

There was a wounded sound behind his back, startling him back into reality.

"You - You _idiot!_ " The same voice called out, thick with tears and pain. "Why haven't you just said so before – !"

Viktor's jaw dropped with surprise.

 _"Yu-Yuuri?"_ He croaked out, disbelief coloring his voice. "What – " His hands shot up, clenching on the arms wounding around him like angel's wings.

There was a snuffle and awkward shuffle forcing Viktor to relinquish his hold on Yuuri's arms and then just a scant three moments later, a darkly-clothed form stumbled into his chest, all red-cheeked with a red nose to match, with dark, bright eyes glistening with tears, biting his lip as he tried to hold the tears back.

"What have you _done_ to yourself, Viktor?" Yuuri's woolen mittens-clad hands cradled Viktor's whiskered cheeks, gaunter than the last time they had seen each other.

"You - you're really here? With me?" Viktor stuttered, his eyes wide and greedy as he perused the man in his arms. He was more tired looking, with eye bags behind the glasses and scruffy hair - and for a moment, he thought he was holding the old Yuuri, the shy and insecure one at the beginning of their path to Grand Prix. He received a wet chuckle. "Or course. A certain kitten told me that I was an idiot to let you go." There was that all too familiar blush on his cheeks and a shy duck of his head.

"Yuuri." If Viktor had to choose only one word to say until the end of life, it would be this one.

"Yuuri." He nuzzled the dark hair, inhaling the crisp scent of ice and Yuuri, still half-afraid that he was dreaming. _"Yuuri."_

"I am here." The first-time Grand Prix champion whispered, snuggling into him before parting away, eyeing Viktor uncertainly. "Unless… you don't want me to be."

Viktor wanted to shout and dance and cry, all at once. Instead, he settled for a firm nod and a swallow before he managed to speak. "I want you. All of you. Your flaws. Your mistakes. Your imperfections. I want you, and only you. Just….Don't let me go. Please."

Chuckling wetly, Yuuri nodded as he nuzzled Viktor's nose with his own as his hands clutched on the front of Viktor's rapidly cooling sweatshirt. "Only if you promise to do the same for me."

Viktor's heart stuttered at the adorable sight, and until now hollow chest cavity began to fill with warmth, hope and love.

"Always, _angel moy_. _Navsegda_."

 _Don't let the sun go down on me  
Although I search myself, it's always someone else I see_

Hidden in the half-darkness a certain Russian Punk rolled his eyes.

"Finally." He huffed. But he would deny to his dying day and beyond that his lips quirked into a small, barely visible smile. _  
_

 _I'd just allow a fragment of your life to wander free  
But losing everything is like the sun going down on me_

Viktor's reason for absence had to be amended from his searching for inspiration to recovering from severe cold gained via excessive training prior Yuuri's arrival. Curiously, a certain Japanese skater has been spotted regularly in his vicinity, until the time both of them had disappeared back to Japan, presumably to plan choreography for the next competitions.

(Strangely enough, nobody noticed simple rings on their ring fingers…. Yet.)

* * *

 _ **/The End/**_


End file.
